


That Old Black Magic

by bushlaboo



Series: Witchy Woman [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Desperate times call for desperate measures, F/F, F/M, Mutually Unrequited, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushlaboo/pseuds/bushlaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of Mysterious Ways (my <em>Bewitched</em> meets <em>Arrow</em> kind of, sort of AU) … it has been months since Damien Darhk collected Felicity to stand before the Witch’s Council and all their searching has been fruitless. When the warlock comes to make a deal Oliver knows better than to agree, especially given the “favor” but desperation breeds recklessness. Little does Oliver realize that his potential suicide mission is going to shed light on his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Old Black Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mel_Sanfo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_Sanfo/gifts).



> I totally geeked out when Mel replied to the first installment of this verse. She writes beautiful and inventive AUs that captive me including [Mermaid's Kiss](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3959770), [Soulmark](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4225782), and one of my absolute favorites [Masquerade](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4230792) \- seriously if you haven't read that one do so **_RIGHT_** now. Well right after you finish this of course. ;)

_Six Months Ago_

“This is strange,” Felicity stated before taking a sip of the very tangy, very strong grapefruit margarita. The strobing lights and pulsing music swirled around them, making it so she had to shout to be heard, even in the private VIP seating area of Verdant Oliver had reserved for them. She sat between her two favorite guys, John Diggle on her right – all muscular arms and good natured smile – and Oliver Queen on her left. He was the kind of masculine pretty that was difficult to describe and hard for her to look at without her brain short-circuiting.

“A night at Verdant?” Dig questioned as he spun the beer bottle between his hands. “That’s pretty much how we spend most of our evenings.”

“Below Verdant,” she corrected him. They spent most of their evenings in the club’s basement fighting crime in the hopes of bettering Starling. Well she was underneath the Tuesday through Saturday nightly raging party, Oliver and Dig were more often than not out in the field. “Without the booze,” Felicity reminded him as she set the zig-zagged stemmed glass back on the table.

She felt more than heard Oliver’s huff of laughter. Eyeing him sideways, Felicity saw that his lips were slightly upturned in what equated as a smile for him. He had barely touched the glass of vodka in front of him. “It’s a night off,” he said as he caught her gaze.

Felicity was grateful that the booze had already made her cheeks flush. There was such open affection and warmth in Oliver’s cerulean eyes now that things had settled between them again after the tempestuous rollercoaster ride Helena’s return had put them through. Walking away from him had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done, and considering she’d given up magic and the luxurious lifestyle available to her in the magical world, that said something about what the man and their mission had come to mean to her.

But much like the gorgeous man next her, Felicity was not yet ready to claim those feelings let alone talk about them, particularly since she was on drink number three of the evening. Along with Tommy and his girlfriend, Laurel, they had begun their rare fun night out together, with a shot of whiskey – much to Thea’s complaint as she was too young to partake. Oliver had grumbled that she should be grateful that he let her into the club at all. The brown liquid was better than gin, however Felicity much preferred red wine, which she had ordered to sip on while the couples in their party made their way to the dance floor.

After they had finally worn themselves out shaking a tail feather, they had made their way to the VIP section she, Diggle and Oliver had roosted in with fresh drinks. Felicity much preferred Laurel’s choice of the citrus cocktail over Tommy’s shot. They had spent a half hour struggling to converse over the noise of the busy club when a change in music tempo – to slow and sultry – drove the couples back to the dance floor. She had blurted out her comment about how strange the evening was when she realized that Oliver was scowling down Thea and her boyfriend, Roy, who took to the rhythm of the music a little too well if the look on her over-protective big brother’s face was anything to go by.

“Which is an odd thing for us,” she repeated her earlier sentiment. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy spending time with her boys outside of the Arrow-cave, a term she had coined for the basement which Oliver abhorred, but it was unquestionably outside their norm.

“We had drinks after the Dodger case,” Oliver countered.

“I don’t remember gifting the SCPD with a criminal this evening,” she replied.

He rolled his eyes and sighed her name in the drawn out way he had that implied so much more than a simple word, “Fe-lic-i-ty.”

She waved her hand at him and Diggle barked out a laugh at their antics. “I thought a night off meant I wouldn’t have to listen to you two bicker.”

Felicity turned to Diggle and replied, “Well if _someone_ asked me to dance there wouldn’t be a chance for us to bicker, now would there?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she closed her eyes in embarrassment as Oliver tensed beside her.

Thankfully Diggle saved them both by covering one of her hands with his and asking her, “Take a spin with me?”

The music changed again then, more techno-beat then dirty dancing, and Felicity thanked her lucky stars because while she wouldn’t mind a friendly dance with Dig there was no way the previous music would have really allowed for it.

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him in appreciation, “I’d loved to.” Diggle slid out from behind the table so she could get out and as she started towards the stairs, Felicity could have sworn she heard him tell Oliver that he’d have to reconsider his no dancing policy.

\---

Everything was _finally_ in place. He’d been making maneuvers for nearly three centuries to make his bid to take control of the Council. The old guard had been in control for far too long, limiting the influence they could have on the wider world. They were the ones with the power after all and yet mere mortals stomped around the planet multiplying at an unsupportable rate and waging bitter, destructive wars. Allowing the League of Assassins to counterbalance the chaos had long ago proven to be an ineffective means to try and balance the disease that was humanity.

What was the line from that ridiculous superhero movie so many vain and venal humans made a fuss about a few years ago? Something about them craving subjugation, he thought and it was sentiment Damien very much agreed with as long as they were ruled by the correct person. Undoubtedly, Felicity would know the exact phrasing having spent the last decade amongst them and how she had the fortitude for that he would never know. That she managed to do it and not use magic for so long had impressed him, making him certain in his choice of the High Mage’s discontented daughter for his wife-to-be. Her family had the status he needed, but her ferocious will, which he very much looked forward to curtailing one day – very soon – made her the most appealing bride option.

And how lovely had it been that she walked right into where he needed her to be? He had been surprised when the purported use of magic in Starling had first whispered its way through the magical community. All but a very few had been barred from the city where the High Mage’s daughter made her home, a gift Felicity had not realized he granted her. There was little doubt about who could have been performing it but with the use barely discernible nothing had been done.

He had investigated, of course. Felicity Smoak was too good of a bargaining chip not too and when he finally confirmed that she was using magic in consort with humans the pieces of his jigsaw puzzle of a plan came fully together. The High Mage could only overlook so much in regards to his erstwhile daughter, allowing unsanctioned humans to know about magic was not something that could be ignored.

The news of course had not come through him directly. He pulled a string on the web he’d been weaving and lost a low level drone to the High Mage’s ire. It was a purposeful loss, as another tugged cord had him dispatched to confirm the report and if true, to sanitize the issue and collect her. Had anyone else been given the duty Oliver Queen and John Diggle would have had no memory of fiery woman who still refused to feel indebted to him for standing with her in front of the Council. Her situation would be much more severe had he not, instead of being stripped down to nothing and left in a dank cell to rot, she’d been made his charge and confined to his home to regain proper admiration for the world she’d turned her back upon.

Currently he did not need Felicity’s gratitude, though it irked Damien that he’d not received a shred of thanks from her – making her pliable could end up being a life’s work and it was something he found himself looking forward to getting around to after he dealt with humanity – as he had the High Mage’s. The old fool all but blubbered with appreciation for his act of kindness. He did not see it for what it truly was - one of his final moves before he had the man in checkmate. Granted he had to wait months for Queen to be sufficiently desperate, but truthfully it had been enjoyable watching the ape run in circles, losing what little control he had as his search proved futile.

The man was finally poised on the razor edge, so determined to get back what was taken from him that he would accept any task required to see to that end. Only a foolish, which remarkably he wasn’t, or a reckless individual would take on Ra’s al Ghul, leader of the League of Assassins, who had a longstanding alliance with Council leadership.

The gambit of using Ra’s to distract and weaken Council – a well-time internal kerfuffle over their continued association with the League, an issue he’d been pressing with those in power he knew to be unhappy with their control of the Lazarus Pit – would give him exactly what was required to disrupt the Council. After decades of making chips into their seemingly solid foundation, Damien knew one solid blow would crumble the polite veer that actually held it together. In the ruins he would seize control and as High Mage he would not kowtow to others, but rule over the world as only he saw fit.

Not that he said as much to any of his puppets. His ultimate goals were his and his alone, but he did spell out enough about the League and what he would be facing should Queen decide to take him up on his offer: disrupt the plans of Ra’s al Ghul he’d give him and in return he’d facilitate Felicity’s homecoming to Starling. Both Queen and his compatriot were suspicious of his proposal which proved them smarter than he’d been willing to consider them.

He had no intention of ever releasing Felicity. They might sense that, but there was enough uncertainty and hope to blind them to that reality. Of course, Damien knew of other ways to motivate his pawns. “What do you say Mr. Queen? How badly do you really want Felicity back?” he taunted.

\---

Oliver knew he was about to make a deal with the devil. He accepted that there was a very real possibility that Darhk was using him and wouldn’t hold up his end of the bargain, but this was the closest he’d been to retrieving Felicity in months. He physically ached to just have the luminous blonde in his presence again and if he did this, if he took on the League and interrupted the business Darhk earmarked, there was a chance. A slim, tantalizing prospect of laying his beleaguered eyes on Felicity Smoak once again and soaking in the warm radiance that she naturally exuded; he knew it would be desperate gamble but at this point he was willing to do anything.

It was obvious that Darhk knew he could not resist the opportunity, even though his better judgement – and the look on Diggle’s face – told him to do so. He was just so tired, having spent too long already ceaselessly searching for what, _who_ , was missing from his life. Barely a second after he agreed to Darhk’s proposal the warlock poofed from his lair, leaving him alone to face the consequences of his admittedly rash decision with his partner.

Before he could even offer to leave Dig out it of it, his friend growled, “ _Don’t_. You haven’t been alone in this – saving Starling, finding Felicity – since you brought me in Oliver.” He uncrossed his massive arms and stepped forward. With conviction he stated, “I’m certainly not going to let you take on this League by yourself.”

“I’m all but declaring war on them Dig,” he sighed, his shoulder’s sagging, “and you have your family to consider.”

“So do you,” Dig countered. That simple straight forward statement forced a shudder through his body, but Oliver reminded himself that he had his hood to mask his identity and protect his mother and Thea, while Diggle did not. He tried to protest his friend’s assessment but was once again stopped before he could get a word out of his mouth. “And don’t tell me it’s different. You’re not the only one that—” he could only imagine what Dig saw on his face that caused him to come to an abrupt stop. _Love_. That was what he intended to say.

Oliver’s breath caught. He had seen the camaraderie between Felicity and Diggle, the warm friendship that budded and held even when she had walked away from him and his mission. Had it bloomed into full on love before Darhk whisked her away or had that moment – her sacrifice – crystallized Diggle’s feelings, which had been far less nebulous than his, for her. Whatever the case, he was certain that the way Diggle loved Felicity was far different than the way he …

“She is _my_ friend too,” Dig continued ending the long tense moment of silence between them. “She went with that bastard to protect the both of _us_. I’m a solider Oliver and I can’t leave a man behind. We’re getting Felicity back.” His eyes flash with confidence as he said that and once again Oliver felt such gratitude that there was another person in this with him, someone who would _never_ give up on getting Felicity back. “If we have to take on the League of Assassins to do so, then that’s what we’ll do. Emphases on _we_ , Queen. You go rouge on me and a society of super-secret bad guys is gonna be child’s play compared to the hell I’ll rain down on you,” he threatened. He’d never heard that particular tone in Diggle’s voice. One that clearly demonstrated what a danger the usually affable man could be if he so chose. “You clear on that?”

“Crystal,” he replied, unable to suppress the small smile that touched his lips. His world had been stark; he trimmed it that way on purpose, his focus completely on fulfilling his promise to his father. Providence had graced him with amazing partners, ones he’d taken for granted early on, but he’d quickly come to realize they made his life – _made him_. Oliver knew he had been so very lucky that it was John Diggle that his mother had hired to be his bodyguard. That such an honorable, capable human being chose to be his friend, well it astounded him every day, and he knew that if he had any hope of getting their missing piece back he really could not do it without him. “Thank you, John.”

\---

_A Month Later_

“Nyssa wait!” Sara shouted taking in the familiar frame and ready stance of the hooded archer they faced. Her lover took no heed of the request leaving her just a moment to make her decision. She knew the consequences, which would be both swift and serve, she would face for siding with an enemy of the League. Still she had to risk it. If the figure was who she believed him to be Sara could not let him die.

She and Nyssa had spent the last two weeks playing a game of cat and mouse with him and his compatriot across four continents. It had been both a thrilling challenge – they were few and far between for members of the League of Assassins – and a great annoyance. Now all she could feel was hope. Sara had learned of his survival of course, the news of the billionaire scion found alive marooned on island made headlines worldwide, but she had never believed that their paths would cross again. The life of the Canary, and the duties she performed, was one she wanted to keep far from Starling City and her family. The girl she had been was a far cry from the woman – _the weapon_ – she’d become and she had no desire for her family to see what the world had made of her.

With the near inhuman speed the League had drilled into her, Sara threw her baton, knocking Nyssa’s arrow off of its mark. It sailed just pass the two men they’d been sent to end. She heard the soft thud of the arrowhead as it planted itself into the concrete building behind them as she stepped in front of her partner in all things, whose bow was already nocked with another arrow. She pleaded with her eyes for Nyssa to hold off. There was a barely discernible twitch of her unpainted lips, but it was enough for Sara to know that Nyssa was expressing both her displeasure and willingness to allow for this to play out.

Sara offered a quick upturn of her own lips as a thank you as she removed her mask. She shoved it into a pocket as she pulled her hood down and spun around to face their prey. The ready bow in the hooded man’s hands faltered. She watched it quaver as she felt his gaze examining her – she had little doubt now that those eyes would be a jeweled blue, though she was certain they no longer shone with mischief. They had both lost that aspect of themselves on Lian Yu.

“Sara?” his voice cracked as he called her name. It was just as rich and deep as she remembered, but the pain behind the single word was not something she was used to hearing from Oliver Queen.

“It’s me Ollie,” she assured him taking a step towards him. As she did so the giant of a man that was his partner shifted in front of him, the movement was enough to catch Oliver’s eye, but did not affect his ability to shoot his still nocked arrow. She watched as his hand flexed on the bow and Sara could tell he was warring with himself. Finally, he sighed and dropped the weapon to his side, causing his companion to tense.

She heard a softly asked, “You sure about this?” In response, Oliver lowered his hood, making his face visible. Sara had to bite back a chuckle at his use of grease paint as a masking agent, though she preferred it to his friend’s ski mask which could too easily shift and affect vision.

It felt strange taking in his visage once again. His face was gaunt, marred by worry, and his strong jaw was covered in hair that was just a tad too long to be considered stubble, but still a ways from being a full fledged beard. His physique was still muscular, but there was sharp edge to it. Even the island had not cut him into such a severe instrument and she could not help but wonder about and lament whatever had transpired to make the boy she’d known into the man who stood before her. One that was heedlessly risking his life, and the lives of all he cared about, by interfering with League business.

“Sara’s an old …” he paused and she couldn’t help but speculate what term he was searching for – friend, lover, betrayer, confederate – she’d been all that and more to him in the years they’d known each other. But their lives had taken a sharp unexpected turn. Their mutual lust, combined with his fear and her anger, had led to their ill-advised voyage; one that had altered the course of their lives, leaving scars both imperceptible and physical. “Ally,” he finally decided.

“Lance?” the unnamed man sought to clarify. At Oliver’s nod, the man stated, “I thought she was dead.”

“So did I,” Oliver replied. She heard the unasked questions in his response. How was she alive? Why hadn’t she returned home? How had she gotten involved with the League?

They were queries Sara knew she could not answer, she could already feel Nyssa’s presence closing in on her, they had their orders and there was only so much leeway she could allow. As Heir to the Demon, Nyssa could not disobey her father’s orders. She could skirt around them, bend them slightly, but Ra’s al Ghul ruled the League with an iron fist. An operative of the League could not fail in their mission, particularly his daughter, and that’s what Oliver and his companion had been seeing to and why they’d been dispatched to put a stop to it. By any means necessary.

Lethal action had a finality that was the League’s preference and if she had any hope of saving Oliver’s life, and she had to or die trying since he’d done the same for her, Sara had to get to the crux of the matter. What had tipped him off to their existence, they were a millenniums old secret society, and why he’d gone to war against them. Questions no other person would have had the chance to answer.

Their guarded exchange ebbed and flowed with thick silences and wary glances. Nyssa was unwilling to trust his motives, but Sara knew Oliver better. She had personally witnessed some of his greatest sacrifices and understood that his courting the ire of Ra’s al Ghul, the most dangerous man on the planet, was nothing to him if it secured the freedom of someone he cared about. Though if she was reading the way his eyes softened and the infliction in his voice when he said her name, “ _Felicity_ ,” – the emotional attachment he had towards the woman was not mere friendship. It was something much deeper and clearly sacred to him, something that he considered _beyond_ precious after the experiences of Lain Yu; which was something Sara knew a little bit about herself and only because of Nyssa. If anyone else had found her after she’d been swept away from the freighter she was certain her heart would have gone hard and cold permanently, but Oliver had warmed it again after Anthony froze it, and Nyssa stoked that ember allowing her to feel and love.

“Damien Darhk,” Nyssa spat out the name Oliver had finally offered up in distaste. Sara knew the white-blonde shark was an attaché of the Witches’ Council, one of the few allies of the League, and she was only allowed that deep level of League knowledge because of her place in Nyssa’s life. She was the Heir’s Beloved, much to their leader’s antipathy. “He has manipulated you more than you realize. Even if his plan succeeds, he will need a tie to a much older and powerful family to have sway over the Council. As daughter to the High Mage your Felicity is his best recourse.”

When Oliver just stared at Nyssa blankly, Sara sighed, “Don’t you get it Ollie?” Though Felicity’s standing was news to her, she had quickly put the pieces together. “He needs the distraction but he also means for you to die or be near enough to it that he can force Felicity’s hand. She’ll marry him to save you,” that much was clear based on the details he’d shared, “and he’ll have the standing to call for a vote of confidence.”

“He would not have made this move if he did not already have everything in place for his coup,” Nyssa agreed, her dark eyes narrowing as she considered aloud, “a member of the council willing to nominate him and the votes to claim the title of High Mage.”

“From the moment he took her it was ploy,” Oliver’s companion who had been named – John Diggle – and unmasked during their discussion growled. The harsh frown on his mocha face illustrated his disgust for the man in question, but Sara could tell that he was also cursing himself for not realizing the bigger picture at play. To be fair neither he nor Oliver had enough knowledge of the magical world and its politics to comprehend the extent to which they were being played by Darhk. The way Diggle kept fisting his hands she could tell there was nothing more he wanted in this moment than to get his hands on Darhk and make him pay for his maneuverings and the deadly, fruitless quest he’d sent them on.

“He’s not getting away with it,” Oliver snarled. It surprised Sara how well she could still read him. The glistening hard look in his eyes said it all – there was no way on earth, magical forces or not, that he would allow Darhk to ensnare Felicity in his schemes or trap her into matrimony. She had no doubt that he would happily die before he allowed that fate to befall her.

“No,” Nyssa assured him, “he will not. No one uses the League or its allies.”


End file.
